


Locked Door Policy

by grimark



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alcohol, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Requited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimark/pseuds/grimark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian had a bottle of wine and a charming smile, and was about to go and try to have casual sex with one of the most honest and genuine friends he’d ever had in his life.</p><p>(or: Dorian manages to end up in the right place at the wrong time. But it works out okay in the end.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from sarahwhat on the adoribull chat, probably with contributions from some other people, so long ago that everyone involved has most likely forgotten all about it. Nevertheless, here it is!  
> Expect the next chapter in a couple of days' time.

Dorian didn’t like to think of himself as the sort of man who spent a lot of time drinking alone. Back in Tevinter, of course, there were the endless parties and evening events, or there was Felix.

 These days, he had the dubious honour of drinks and insults with Sera, or the times when Cadash would round up him and the rest of the inner circle for a few games of loud and tipsy Wicked Grace. Between one thing and another, it was safe to say Dorian was accustomed to drinking with company.

 Nevertheless, here he was: slouched in his armchair in the library, drinking wine from the bottle. He had made pretty good progress on it, and had another sitting on the desk beside him. But the second bottle was not for now- he had set it aside for a specific purpose.

 

Tonight was a special occasion, if only in Dorian’s mind. Or rather, it would soon be a special occasion, if everything went according to plan. Tonight was the culmination of weeks of dithering and second-guessing, of _months_ of… well. Months of embarrassment and infuriation. Months of being slightly wary and constantly wrongfooted, initial assumptions proven entirely wrong. Of heavy-handed flirtations from an unexpected source, of animosity giving way to camaraderie and something a little like friendship.

 

When the Iron Bull had made his offer, Dorian had assumed he was joking. When said offer was repeated, obscene and audacious but never anything other than sincere, Dorian had been forced to come to the conclusion that perhaps he was not.

 He had considered the offer. Sweet Maker, he’d considered it, in a frankly embarrassing level of detail. It was not as though these thoughts were new to Dorian, after all. He’d been thinking them, however furtively, long before the Iron Bull had ever suggested they be made into an actuality. It had started with an idle glance here and there, at his face, at his arms, at the shift and play of his muscles as he hefted a battleaxe. These thoughts had treacherously given way to others, involving beds and bare flesh, and strong hands holding him down.

 

Dorian prided himself on his ability to keep these thoughts separate from their day-to-day relationship, which was quite friendly as long as Bull wasn’t being inappropriate. They fought side by side when called upon to do so, they drank and played cards together, and Bull occasionally watched his chess games with Cullen. He offered no comment when he did, though Dorian had begun to suspect that Bull understood the game far better than he let on.

 

They were friends, of a sort. But Bull had made it abundantly clear that if Dorian wanted, they could be friends who also had sex with each other sometimes.

 Dorian was embarrassed enough to admit that even this would be a significant step closer to an actual relationship than anything he’d previously had. Visits to brothels and the occasional shadowy rendezvous at other people’s boring parties may have made for an exciting sexual history, but it did not exactly provide much in the way of emotional fulfillment. Hence the drinking.

 

Were Dorian a cruder man, he might have described himself in this moment as scared shitless. In fact, there was no point tiptoeing around the issue. He was slightly drunk, more than slightly lonely, and, yes, scared shitless. He had a bottle of wine and a charming smile, and was about to go and try to have casual sex with one of the most honest and genuine friends he’d ever had in his life.

 

“That’s pretty bloody sad,” Dorian spoke to the room at large.

“Behold, the scion of House Pavus,” he said, loading the phrase with its characteristic self-deprecating bitterness. “Can count on one hand his currently living friends who wouldn’t stab him in the back as soon as look at him. He sits in his library, drinking alone, and talking to himself for company.”

 

Dorian became immediately aware he was being melodramatic. It was something of a personal flaw, which grew even more evident when he’d been drinking. He imagined what Bull would say, were he there. Or Cadash, or (maker forbid) Sera. Any one of them would probably laugh at him, maybe give him a gentle cuff around the back of the head. Cadash would tell him to keep his chin up and stop feeling so sorry for himself. Sera would advise him to stick his mopey attitude up his arse, and Bull-

 Dorian felt his face heat. Thinking about Bull in the same context as sticking things up his arse obviously brought him back to his original predicament. He was most of the way through his bottle of liquid courage, and not feeling all that much more courageous.

 

_What’s the worst that could happen?_ Dorian asked himself. _He’s hardly going to turn you away, he’s already made his interest abundantly clear._

 

With this heartening thought, Dorian drained the bottle and got to his feet. He had better places to be.

 

\--

 

To Bull’s room, then. Dorian knew where it was, in much the same way he had an idea of where all members of the inner circle spent their time, though in Bull’s case he knew it with rather less than innocent motivations. A little unsteady on his feet, soon corrected for with the ease of long experience. Dorian was no stranger to walking confidently while inebriated.

 

He took the other bottle of wine with him, and hoped he would encounter no one on the way. As he grew closer and closer to his destination, his potential excuses grew fewer. Through the courtyard, to the Herald’s Rest. He glanced around just for long enough to ensure Bull wasn’t there. Many of the Chargers were seated at a large table over by the wall. Dorian recognized Krem and a few of the others, but their fearless leader was conspicuous in his absence.

 

Dorian heard someone call his name- Sera, over by the bar. He offered her a wave as he turned to leave, and hoped she wouldn’t follow him. Knowing Sera, she would be too busy trying to sweet-talk the nearest attractive woman to care what he was doing. He was safe from her knowing grins and clumsy innuendoes, at least for now.

 

Bull’s door was before him at last. It was closed, though this was not unexpected. Dorian had assumed the promise of it always being open was meant in the metaphorical sense.

 

He took a moment to compose himself, reaching up to smooth his already perfect hair back with his free hand. Compulsive grooming, wasn’t that telling? He knew he shouldn’t bother. As if Bull would give a toss what his hair looked like. The brute would probably take great enjoyment out of messing it up again.

 

Briefly, Dorian wondered what in the Maker’s name he was doing here. Bull was nothing like the men he had been attracted to in the past, even aside from the obvious detail of being a Qunari. He was huge, coarse, blunt in both speech and manner, qualities which were difficult to come by in the upper echelons of Tevinter society. But there was something about all of these features that Dorian found fascinating, a certain charisma with which Bull carried himself.

  _Animal magnetism,_ Dorian thought, suppressing an unkind snort of laughter. Immediately he felt bad about the thought, and then felt horrified for feeling bad. The man called himself the _Bull_ , for Andraste’s sake. He practically invited that particular insult. Not long ago Dorian had been perfectly comfortable in saying all sorts of things about Qunari savagery and, yes, animalism. But after coming to actually know Bull, his wicked intelligence and his kind heart, Dorian found his opinion somewhat changed. Maybe not about Qunari generally, but certainly Bull in particular.

 

_If that’s not a clear sign that I need to get this over and done with, I don’t know what is,_ Dorian thought. He could get back to normal, then, no longer plagued by this inconvenient lapse into sentiment.

 

Dorian raised a hand to push against the door, and found it surprisingly resistant. He reached for the doorknob, trying to pull the door towards him. When that achieved nothing, he rattled it back and forth, similarly to no effect.

 

The door was locked. Dorian rapped his knuckles against the wood, feeling very foolish. Well, there was no reason it shouldn’t be. Everyone deserved a little privacy now and then.

 

When there was no response, Dorian knocked louder.

 

“Bull?” he called, hating how tentative his voice came out. “Are you in there?”

 

At this time of night, there were a limited number of places where Bull could most likely be found. He was not drinking with the Chargers. He had not been elsewhere in the tavern. He did not appear to be in his room. Either he had uncharacteristically chosen to take himself elsewhere, or he was ignoring Dorian.

 

_He could be asleep,_ thought Dorian.

 

“Bull, open the door!” Dorian called, a little louder. “I have wine,” he added as an afterthought. That was an important consideration. “It’s the good stuff, not the vinegar they serve downstairs. I stole it from the cellars myself.”

 Dorian was quite sure _he_ would open the door to an offer like that, no matter who was making it, or how much of an arse they might have been to him in the past. Evidently Bull was made of sterner stuff.

 

Dorian uncorked the bottle with his teeth and spat the cork on the floor. He took a generous swig. Damn, that _was_ good.

 

“I’m drinking it,” Dorian said, leaning against the doorframe. “If you don’t let me in, I shall drink the lot, don’t think I can’t. Then I’ll leave the bottle sitting outside for you to see what you missed out on.” _And I’ll wear my most flattering robes tomorrow, so you can see what_ else _you missed out on,_ Dorian thought. A little vindictive, perhaps, but he was unused to being stood up.

 

A horrible thought occurred. What if Bull _had_ been joking? Dorian took another mouthful of wine as he considered this. It was true, he and Bull had initially- Dorian smirked to himself- knocked horns. But they’d come to a truce, more or less, by the time Bull made his offer. Hadn’t they?

 

… Even now, Bull could be sitting in his room, listening to Dorian’s confusion and cajoling, muffling his laughter. Dorian was surprised by how badly the possibility stung. It would injure his pride, certainly, but it would also be terribly disappointing. Dorian had actually been looking forward to their prospective tryst.

 

Dorian allowed himself to slide to the floor, back propped against the rough stone wall. Now that he’d been drawn into this rather depressing train of thought, there seemed to be nothing else for it but to follow through on the threat he’d made.

 

_I hope that tomorrow, he doesn’t notice the bottle,_ Dorian thought sourly. _I hope he trips over it and it breaks. I hope he hasn’t put his boots on, so he stands on the glass._

 

Feeling somewhat cheered by this thought- or maybe it was the wine- Dorian clambered back up to his feet.

 

“I was only doing you a favour, you know,” he told the closed door. It didn’t seem to have much to say for itself. “ _You_ were the one who wanted to sleep with _me,_ if you’ll recall.”

 

Dorian aimed a kick at the door. It was a good door, made of thick and solid wood, and his boots did not have the sturdy metal toecaps of those he wore on expeditions out of Skyhold. Accordingly, the door was the victor in that confrontation.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” said Dorian. He was surprised by how much it hurt. It made him feel a little bit better, so he said it again. Somehow, his customary oaths in Tevene did not feel equal to the situation.

 

He still had the bottle of wine in his hand. It was difficult to remember why he’d thought it a good idea to waste such a thing on Bull, of all people.

“I should have given it to Sera,” he said. “She wouldn’t appreciate it, of course, but at least she appreciates _me._ ”

 

At this juncture, he imagined, Sera would probably have made great progress with whichever lucky girl she’d set her sights on tonight. She would probably be having a wonderful time, sparing no thought to the plight of those less fortunate than herself, such as him.

 If she were a better friend, he mused, she would have made more of an effort to talk to him earlier. She would have stopped him from going upstairs, and thus spared him this embarrassment. Maybe Varric would have come over to chat with them. Dorian would have bought them both drinks. The girl whom Sera was almost certainly entertaining right now would be lonely, but Dorian would not. He’d be drunk and enjoying himself with friends, as opposed to drunk, on his own, with a sore foot.

 

“My life,” said Dorian, “is incredibly unfair.”

 

How was it fair that rude and uncultured people such as Sera and, all right, The Iron Bull, managed to keep on finding company to spend their nights with? How was it fair that far more handsome and charming individuals were left tragically alone?

 

“Bull, you savage!” yelled Dorian. He kicked the door again, though rather more carefully. “I know you’re in there! I don’t even want to sleep with you anymore, I want you to open up this door so I can set your ugly pants on fire!”

 

No response.

 

“What, nothing to say to that? No come-on? No idiotic comment about me wanting to get your pants off?” If Bull was pretending he wasn’t there, he was pretty bloody committed to it.

 

If someone had asked Dorian in that moment what was the one good thing about his current situation, he may very well have thrown his wine bottle at them. Nevertheless, if he’d been inclined to answer, he might have said that at the very least, it was good that there were no witnesses to his temper tantrum in the hallway. As is inevitably bound to happen when one is drunk and slightly miserable, this one good thing soon changed for the worse.

 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Dorian turned, and was greeted by the sight of Krem ambling along the hall towards him.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Dorian asked, as rudely as possible.

 

Krem smiled patiently at him. “I came up here to see who was trying to break the Chief’s door down. Didn’t think it was going to be you.”

 

Dorian spread his arms ostentatiously before himself, as if showing off some impressive work of art. He practically was, in his opinion.

 

“C’mon,” said Krem. “You should get back to your own room.”

 

“I’d rather not,” said Dorian. “Unless you’re offering to accompany me? Considering that your Chief has been so disobliging.”

 

“Is that what you’re doing here?” Krem asked. His mouth was twisting in a way that Dorian suspected meant he was suppressing a smirk. “Did you actually tell him you were planning on showing up? Or did you just figure he’d know?”

 

“Maybe,” said Dorian, ruffled. Now that Krem spelt it out for him, it seemed ridiculous to assume Bull would be waiting in his room for Dorian to drop by whenever he felt like it.

 

“He’s not in tonight,” said Krem, “so I suggest you try another time. In the meantime, are you okay to get back to your room, or do you need a hand?”

 

_I had hoped I was going to get a bit more than a hand tonight,_ Dorian thought, but kept it to himself.

 

“I can manage,” he said, waving Krem away. “What do you care, anyway? I always got the impression you disliked me intensely. You should be hoping I get lost and wander off the battlements.”

 

“Oh, I do, very much,” said Krem, grinning. “I’m just hoping that in the morning you’ll have forgotten all this.”

  
Dorian snorted. Frankly that was rather insulting. “I doubt it,” he said. “I would need to be far more drunk than this before I started forgetting things.”


	2. Chapter 2

This comment proved to be some sort of terrible prophecy, as Dorian woke up with his memory of the previous night’s embarrassments preserved in impeccable detail.

 

Dorian groaned. Shouting pathetically at Bull’s locked door was certainly not the most scandalous or expensive mistake he’d ever made while drunk, but the fact that Krem had been there to witness some of it was less than ideal. It wasn’t as though he cared for Krem’s opinion, particularly. But he had no doubt that the story had been retold immediately, most likely to the great amusement of the core group of the Chargers and everyone else in the Herald’s Rest besides.

 

There was nothing else for it. Dorian had to heave himself pathetically out of bed, and get dressed to face the day. It was not quite a hangover, but he nonetheless felt distinctly secondhand. He also really wanted a drink of water.

 

As the day wore on, it became increasingly clear that Krem had not actually told everyone about what had happened the previous night. Certainly, Cabot had nothing to say to him when Dorian passed through the Herald’s Rest on the way to the dining hall. Neither did any of the library staff, some of whom Dorian knew were part of the regular tavern crowd. When Sera dropped by the library around lunchtime to bring him food, most of which she ended up eating herself, her teasing was restricted to its usual subjects: Demons, blood magic, and the possibility of arrows up his arse.

 

“Hey,” she said, cocking her head to glare at him. “Did you get possessed or something, or are you just not talking to me?”

 

Dorian realised he’d been doing a somewhat poor job of holding up his end of the exchange.

“I’m sorry, Sera,” he told her. “I would be perfectly happy to insult you at some other time, if you’d like. I find myself rather preoccupied.”

 

“Did you just say sorry? Now I _know_ there’s something wrong with you,” she said, swinging herself up to perch on the arm of his chair like a gargoyle. She reached out to take his temperature with the back of her hand, then down to grab the corner of his mouth to peel it away from his gums.

 

“Get _off,_ ” said Dorian, smacking her hand away. “What in the void was that?”

 

“I was checking your teeth, wasn’t I?” said Sera, grinning unapologetically. “It’s what the farmers do to sheep down at the markets, innit? To see if they’re sick.”

 

“How should I know?” Dorian grumbled. “Do I look like someone who buys sheep?”

 

Sera shrugged. “Worth checking. You’re acting like a sad-sack, I thought you might be sick.”

 

Dorian tried not to be touched by this. He knew Sera was just looking for an excuse to stir him up. Still, he _was_ in a bad mood, and it was nice that someone had noticed.

 

“Saw you in the tavern last night,” Sera commented slyly, abruptly dissipating any goodwill Dorian felt towards her. “You left pretty quick.”

 

“So what if I did?” said Dorian defensively. He already knew it was the wrong thing to say. Sera leapt upon the opening with glee.

 

“Going somewhere, then?” she asked. “I didn’t know you knew anyone who lives above the tavern. Going to see Cole, maybe?”

 

“Yes,” said Dorian, rolling his eyes. “You caught me. I was going to see Cole, with a bottle of wine. That is my most favourite way to spend my evenings.”

 

“Wot, really?” said Sera.

 

“No, of course not,” Dorian snapped.

 

“There’s no need to get worked up about it, you know,” said Sera. “I can tell you where he was.”

 

“Who, Cole?” said Dorian, momentarily baffled. Sera gave him a swat over the back of the head.

 

“You know who I’m talking about,” she said. “Your big grey para-whatsit. Parasite? _Paramour._ ”

 

Dorian snorted. “ _There's_ a fancy word. Who taught you that one?” he asked.

 

“Got it out of one of Cassandra’s books,” said Sera smugly, “and you’re avoidin’ the question. Don’t you want to know where he was?”

 

“First of all, I don’t know who you’re talking about,” said Dorian. “Secondly, whoever it is, he’s not my paramour, or my anything else. Thirdly-”

 

“Hey, slow down,” said Sera. “You wanna go that high, I’ll have to start counting on my fingers.”

 

Dorian glared at her. He knew for a fact that Sera could count much higher than that without any difficulty. She was just being a pain.

“ _Thirdly_ ,” he repeated, louder. “I don’t much care where he was last night. What the Iron Bull chooses to do with his time is not my concern.”

 

“Oh, so are we done pretending that’s not who you were looking for?” Sera asked. She was grinning, quite obviously having the time of her life.

 

“Yes,” said Dorian, defeated. “Fine, tell me where he was. I can see you’re dying to.”

 

“He wasn’t in his room,” said Sera. “He was in someone else’s!”

 

“I’d guessed as much, thank you,” said Dorian.

 

“Waitwaitwait!” Sera held up her hands. “He was shacked up with the Inquisitor, all right? He and Cadash are getting pretty friendly lately, if you know what I mean.” She punctuated this with a descriptive gesture involving both hands, just in case there was any doubt.

 

“Oh,” said Dorian. He hadn’t realised Bull and Cadash were that close.

 

“Yeah, I know!” said Sera. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw them leave together! Saw ‘em holding hands in the training yard this morning, too. It was kind of disgusting, actually.”

 

“Oh,” said Dorian, again.

 

\--

 

Apparently, Bull’s famous open door policy had finally come to an end, leaving various residents of Skyhold quite bereft. Apparently, he was locking his door these days, and often spending the night in the Inquisitor’s quarters, besides. Apparently, they were passing quite a bit of time together, and were by all accounts quite thoroughly in love.

Dorian hadn't been paying any special attention to these rumours, of course. It was neither his concern nor his business. One just heard things, that was all.

 

\--

 

Frankly, it was for the best, even Dorian could admit that. Their rough-and-tumble leader, with her quick wits and quicker knives, was an excellent match for Bull. And they were obviously enamoured of each other.

 

“Aw, who’d have guessed?” said Varric, with the light of inspiration in his eyes. “They look good together, don’t you think?”

 

Bull was sitting with his back against the wall. Cadash sat next to him, chatting and singing with the Chargers. They were like Bull’s family, and Cadash got on better with them than Dorian ever could.

 

“Mm,” said Dorian, non-committally. Cadash was standing up in her seat to lean over and press a kiss to Bull’s nose.

 

“Sparkler?” said Varric. “What, you don’t think they look good together?”

 

“Well, you know, there is something of a height difference…”

 

“Yeah, but you get used to that as a dwarf,” said Varric cheerfully. “Besides, Bull would have that with everyone. Or, maybe not so much with you, Sparkler. You're pretty tall, even for a human. Still might have to stand on your tiptoes, though.”

 

“I suppose,” said Dorian, hoping his expression didn't give away exactly how much thought he’d put into his and Bull’s respective heights, and how they might fit together.

 

There was a shriek as Cadash overbalanced. The Chargers roared with laughter. Always one to make the best of a situation, she sat up and swung around so she was perched in Bull’s lap.

Bull leaned down to kiss her on the lips- softly, at first, then harder and deeper as Cadash reciprocated.

Bull looked… sweet, almost. The expression on his face as he pulled away could be described, perhaps, as fond _._ Even worse, _besotted_. Bull tucked a stray curl of hair behind Cadash’s ear, and Dorian fought the urge to retch.

 

“See?” said Varric, almost wistfully. “Just like in the books. Ain't that something?”

 

“I need a drink,” said Dorian.

 

\--

 

As far as Dorian was concerned, he’d never shown up outside Bull’s door with a bottle of wine to share and the intent to proposition him. There was no proof, after all, and the only witness seemed to be keeping the sordid details to himself. Bull and Cadash were happy, not to mention apparently exclusive, and Dorian was happy for them in turn. Dorian was resolved to move on with his life, and put the whole embarrassing affair behind him.

 

Dorian's lot in life once again turned out to be monstrously unfair.

 

It seemed impossible, all of a sudden, to go anywhere in Skyhold without running into the happy couple. The tavern and the courtyard, of course, were best avoided unless one wanted to spectate on Cadash and Bull stealing a kiss. Inner circle meetings were inevitably interrupted when Bull found it absolutely necessary to flirt with the Inquisitor. Even the library, Dorian’s sanctuary, was no longer safe. Cadash dropped by to visit him, as she was wont to do, and it wasn't five minutes until she had strayed off into some anecdote about Bull.

 

… He’d asked her to take him on a _dragon hunt_ the other day, and didn't Dorian think that was sweet? Wouldn't it be fun if she and Bull went dragon hunting together?

Dorian had responded that if getting set on fire by some horrible great lizard was her idea of a romantic getaway, that wasn’t his problem. Cadash had simply laughed.

 

And really, they were friends, but there was a limit to how much Dorian wanted to know about her love life- especially now, when it seemed so nauseatingly replete with, well, _love._

It was hardly as if he was _jealous_ , of course _._ Perish the thought. No, if Cadash had a strong enough stomach and low enough standards to carry on with that muscle-bound barbarian, she was welcome to him.

 

What Cadash saw in Bull, Dorian certainly had no idea. He was far from Dorian’s idea of the perfect male partner, a world away from the beautiful and refined young men Dorian had longed for in the past. He was not a charming conversationalist, a skilled mage and politician of the sort Dorian had once daydreamed of marrying.

Though if the rumours were to be believed, he was a more than adequate lover. And of course, he could always be relied upon in a fight, which certainly had its merits. And after war table meetings, when Cadash looked tired and stressed, he would reach over and massage her shoulders until she relaxed.

Well, perhaps Dorian could see why Cadash was involved with Bull, after all. But he wasn’t jealous of Cadash. Not at all. He simply envied their _relationship_ , that was all, the easy way they interacted with each other, the affection they shared. It was like a friendship, except with sex. Most of Dorian’s own sexual encounters had involved a certain amount of gathering his clothes in darkness and sneaking out before his partner awoke, and then never speaking to each other again. It just would have been rather novel to fuck someone he actually _liked,_ for once.

 

\--

 

_Oh, Maker damn it all,_ Dorian thought, watching Bull pick Cadash up with his huge hands spanning her sturdy waist, and spin her around in a circle. Their voices mingled in matching cries of victory and exhilaration. _I think I_ am _jealous of Cadash._

 

“It's rather unconventional,” commented Cassandra, but there was a soft smile on her face as she watched them.

 

“Quite,” said Dorian stiffly. Bull’s scarred and scruffy face seemed split in half by the massive grin he wore. He looked as though he was having the time of his life, with a dead dragon behind him and Cadash in his arms.

 

_I really am,_ Dorian thought. _Maker save me, I'm jealous of Cadash._

_… I just wish I'd realised it sooner._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final (and longest) chapter! I'm not 100% happy with it, but I hope you will all like it.  
> Please mind the rating change!

Dorian had been drinking with Varric at first, up until Varric had gotten a brilliant idea from one of his own anecdotes, and rushed off to write it down. He'd been considering going over to the card game some of the scouts were playing in the corner and asking to be dealt in, when Bull arrived.

 

He was alone for once, neither Cadash nor the Chargers accompanying him. His torso was beaded with sweat, as if he'd just come in from training, though it seemed a little late for that.

 

He also had the look of a man who rather wished to be left alone.

 

Dorian dithered for a moment, before waving Cabot over.

 

“Tell me,” he said, “do you have anything stronger than ale?”

 

“Got a bottle of genuine Antivan brandy back here somewhere,” said Cabot. “Won't come cheap, though.”

 

“It will do perfectly,” said Dorian, pulling out his coin purse. “That, and two glasses, please.” He would eat his own studded leather gauntlets if the bottle Cabot produced from under the bar had been anywhere near Antiva in its entire existence- but it would do.

 

Before his nerve could fail him, Dorian headed over to the table where Bull sat by himself, and placed the bottle and glasses in the middle of it.

 

“What's this?” said Bull, glancing up at Dorian.

 

“Honestly, I'm not sure,” said Dorian, “but I hazard it will take the edge off whatever it is you're feeling. Care for a drink?”

 

“Sure,” said Bull, “if you feel like sharing.”

 

Dorian sat down, and with a bit of tugging he managed to wrench the cork from the bottle. He tipped some into a glass, and offered it to Bull.

 

“Thanks,” said Bull, taking a healthy swig. He swallowed it like water.

 

“Don't mention it,” said Dorian, pouring a glass for himself. “Care to tell me what’s got you looking so out of sorts?”

 

“Pretty sure that's my job,” said Bull. “Y’know, going around sticking my nose into other people’s business. Either that or it's Cole’s.”

 

“Or Cadash’s, maybe,” said Dorian. “She does have a talent for the personal questions.”

 

At the mention of the Inquisitor’s name, Bull’s faint smile grew fainter.

 

“Ah,” said Dorian, wondering whether he was walking on loose sand here. “Something to do with our illustrious leader? Your sweet inamorata?”

 

“Cut the shit, Dorian,” said Bull. “I'm not in the mood for it.”

 

Dorian winced. “All right,” he said. “Consider it cut. It's Cadash, isn't it?”

 

“It's not what you think,” said Bull. “Or really, it's not what  _ I  _ thought, I guess.”

 

Dorian wondered whether Bull was actually going to say anything, or whether he was going to continue being cryptic and melancholy all night.

 

“I got this dragon’s tooth to give to her,” said Bull. “Had it put on a chain and everything.”

 

“That… does seem like the sort of thing she'd appreciate,” said Dorian. He could just imagine Cadash wearing a dragon’s tooth necklace, of all things.

 

“It was going to be a big deal,” said Bull. “It’s from this old Qunari legend- kind of childish, to be honest, and really not orthodox. Actually, under the modern Qun it's considered pretty selfish, loving a person like that-”

 

“Stop it, Bull,” said Dorian. “I can see whatever this dragon's tooth thing means, it's important to you. It doesn't matter whether or not the Qun would approve.”

 

“I just thought it’d be nice,” said Bull.

 

“But?” said Dorian. He took a sip from his own glass. It was definitely not genuine Antivan brandy, and was in fact quite awful.

 

“Well,” said Bull slowly, “you know how they don’t have romantic relationships under the Qun?” Dorian nodded. “I’ve never been the most, uh,  _ diligent _ Qunari, even before I went Tal-Vashoth. So lately I decided what’s the harm, if I ever get the chance to try that out with someone, I’m going to take it.”

 

“Oh,” said Dorian, as he realised where this was going.

 

“Turns out the Boss wanted to take that chance, too. With, uh. With Josie.”

 

“Oh,” Dorian repeated. He felt a sympathetic bout of horror well up inside him.

 

“Yeah,” said Bull hollowly, “ _ oh. _ ”

 

Dorian had a fleeting thought of  _ so does this mean I- _ but he stomped down on it immediately. It might make take Bull’s mind off things if Dorian made a move now, but even he could see it would not do either of them any favours in the long run. Bull didn’t look heartbroken, precisely. He was far too pragmatic for that. But Dorian imagined he would be feeling a bit fragile nonetheless. 

 

It wasn't exactly how Dorian had hoped their long-awaited tumble into bed might go.

 

“Do you want me to go get Krem?” Dorian asked, at a loss for what else to do.

 

Bull shook his head. “Nah, he’ll start fussing, and then the boys will all know about it. I don't want it to turn into some big issue. Just gotta work through some shit, then I’ll be fine.”

 

Dorian nodded. He could do this. He and Bull had been friends and comrades long before he had given serious thought to being anything else. Now was a good time to remember that.

 

“Would you like some company, then?" Dorian asked. “I like to think that drinking and complaining rate among my many skills, so I can help you out there.”

 

“Thanks, big guy,” said Bull, offering him a bit of a smile. “You’re buying, though.”

 

“Naturally,” said Dorian, and poured out another measure of brandy for them both.

 

\--

 

“She was pretty good about it, really,” Bull said, hunched over the table. “Once we figured out we were hoping for different things, she let me down easy.”

 

“I feel like in some relationships, the best you can hope for is that it doesn't end too painfully,” said Dorian.

 

“I mean, I kind of set myself up for it,” said Bull. “Y’know, making it clear to everyone I'm not interested in romance. Not surprising Cadash assumed it was like that with her, too.” He huffed out a laugh. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for the whole relationship thing. Should’ve just stuck with- what is it they call it down here? Friends with benefits?”

 

“Don’t ask me,” said Dorian. “I’ve had acquaintances with benefits, maybe. Future political rivals with benefits.”

 

“What, never anything more than that?” asked Bull.

 

“Well, there was Rilienus,” Dorian allowed. “But the less said about him, the better. The last I heard, he and his wife had a child. I hear they are very happy together.”

 

_ Very happy,  _ in this context, meant ‘not as unhappy as might be expected from a married Altus couple’. Not as unhappy as Dorian would have been, with whichever poor girl his family foisted upon him.

 

“Good for him,” said Bull philosophically, “not so good for you.”

 

“Well, yes, but my aim in coming here wasn’t to complain about my own abysmal romantic failures,” said Dorian, “it was to try and make you feel better.”

 

“I dunno,” Bull grinned, “hearing about your romantic failures sure isn't making me feel worse.”

 

“If that’s the case, I can keep going,” said Dorian. “I tried to seduce one of my Circle instructors once.  _ That  _ did not end prettily.”

 

“Really?” said Bull. “What happened?”

 

“Oh, it all went perfectly well until I started to develop-” he grimaced- “ _ feelings.  _ Even if Tevinter wasn’t what it was, nothing could have come from it. He was married, of course- are you starting to sense a pattern here?”

 

“Well, I’m no Ben Hassrath,” said Bull mock-gravely, “but it looks like you have a history of developing one-sided emotional attachments to unavailable men.”

 

“Oh, is  _ that _ what keeps happening? I hadn't realised,” said Dorian, with maybe a shade too much hysteria in his voice to pass the comment off as flippancy. Bull had no idea how right he was.

 

“So was this always back in Tevinter?” Bull asked. “You must’ve been in the South for a couple of years now, and in all that time you’ve never…”

 

“What, had anything more emotionally fulfilling than a one-off sexual encounter?” Dorian asked. “I’m afraid I’ve had no offers.”

 

“Aw, now that can’t be true,” Bull said. “Sweet guy like you?”

 

“Oh, Maker,” said Dorian, with some distaste. “Whatever have I done to make you think I’m  _ sweet _ ?”

 

Bull smiled. “Well, you’re sitting here with me, aren’t you?”

 

Dorian was just tipsy enough to allow his mouth to say “Yes, but I have an ulterior motive.”

 

“Oh,” said Bull, and expression of great interest spreading over his features. “Really?”

 

Dorian winced. “I didn't mean to let that slip,” he said. “Honestly, my primary aim really was to make you feel better- isn't that what friends are supposed to do?”

 

“Friends,” said Bull. “That what we are?”

 

Dorian sighed. “I suppose now I've rather backed myself into a corner- I must admit I've been working on another of my one-sided emotional attachments of late.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” said Bull. “Anyone I know?”

 

“You might have met him,” said Dorian.

 

Bull smiled. He looked more cheered by that thought than by anything else Dorian had said all evening.

 

“I won't be a rebound,” Dorian cautioned. “But if you still want to give a romantic relationship a try- well, maybe we could figure it out together?”

 

“Yeah,” said Bull. He glanced at Dorian sideways, uncommonly shy. “I think I'd like that.”

 

\--

 

At first, Dorian thought he'd been relegated firmly back into the role of  _ just friends. _ He drank with Bull and talked nonsense with the Chargers, who seemed to be warming up to him. He played cards with Bull and the rest of the inner circle, and laughed at Bull’s jokes. He went to Redcliffe, and cried on Cadash’s shoulder, and once returned to Skyhold, he allowed Bull to serve him maraas-lok. It was the sort of situation that was ripe for sexual misadventures, but the only thing he found himself regretting the next morning was his headache.

 

In between all this, well: if Dorian sometimes caught Bull casting wistful looks towards Cadash and Josephine during Wicked Grace Night, he didn't mention it, simply rested a quick hand on Bull’s shoulder, and then distracted him with an outrageous attempt at cheating. If, on expeditions out of Skyhold, the air between Bull and Cadash sometimes became quiet and strained, a loud argument with Sera or a story from Varric would quickly fill the silence. 

 

“S’funny,” said Sera, letting her pony fall back in line with Dorian's dracolisk. “I really thought they had something there, y’know?”

 

It wasn't hard to tell whom she was talking about- Cadash, forging stoically ahead on her giant nug, while Bull followed a short distance behind. Bull hadn't acted any differently towards her than how he would to anyone else, jocular and friendly, but something about it rang hollow. Even Sera had noticed it, though she did not know the details the way Dorian did.

 

“I suppose sometimes people just discover they want different things,” he said diplomatically.

 

Sera made a rude noise. “When you put it like  _ that,  _ I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did.  _ I'd  _ want Fancy Josie over Bull’s bits any day. No offence, mate,” she added loudly.

 

“None taken,” Bull called back, though he couldn't have heard the remark Sera was apologising for. Bull was just generally too easygoing to take offence at anything.

 

Dorian was counting on that to work in his favour. Before they'd left for Skyhold, he'd procured a bottle of wine- and  _ paid  _ for it, this time. When they returned, he had plans for it.

 

Those plans were put into action the evening they got back. Bull retired early from the tavern and left the Chargers to their own devices, claiming weariness from his journey. When Dorian saw Bull leave, he got up to follow.

 

“Good luck, hey?” said Sera, who had been keeping him company at the bar.

 

“Same to you,” said Dorian. He knew for a fact that Sera had designs on the auburn-haired dwarven Arcanist, who sat at a table in the corner, chatting to a couple of Leliana’s agents.

 

Sera grinned at him. “As if either of us need it,” she said.

 

\--

 

Dorian knocked on Bull's door, again.

 

“Bull?” he called, hoping Bull hadn't already gone to sleep. “Are you in there?”

 

“Door’s open,” came the response, and of course it was. Now that his not-relationship with Cadash was over, it was back to the usual policy.

 

Dorian pushed the door open. The hinges gave an unpleasant creak, which Dorian once would have made a snippy comment about. Now, though, he knew Bull well enough to suspect he’d let the rust build up on purpose, so no one could open the door without him hearing it.

 

“Oh,” said Bull, glancing up from his desk, where he appeared to have been doing paperwork. “Hey, big guy.”

 

“Are you busy?” said Dorian.

 

“Nothing that can't wait,” said Bull, standing up from his chair. “What's the occasion?”

 

“The occasion is that I have an actual  _ decent  _ bottle of wine, and no one to share it with,” said Dorian.

 

Bull grinned. “Smooth,” he commented.

 

Dorian preened a little. “I try,” he said. “Now do you want some of this or not?”

 

“Less smooth,” said Bull, “but it still works for me. Come on in.”

 

Dorian did as he was bade. For lack of anywhere else to sit, he perched on the edge of Bull’s bed.

 

“Here,” said Bull, gesturing for the bottle with a small dagger. Or rather-

 

“Is that a letter opener?” said Dorian, amused at the incongruity.

 

“Yup,” said Bull, stabbing the blade of the letter opener into the bottle’s cork, and levering it out. “Useful for a guy who’s got a lot of letters to open.”

 

“It seems… very sharp, for a letter opener,” Dorian observed.

 

Bull shrugged. “Useful for a guy who people sometimes try to kill,” he said.

 

Dorian wasn't quite sure if he was being serious or not. The idea of Bull disembowelling a demon with the tiny blade instead of his usual battleaxe was an entertaining one, though.

 

“Maybe you should take it with you into the field next time, if it's so useful,” Dorian said.

 

“I might just do that,” said Bull. “Do you want me to try and find cups for this?”

 

“Oh, I rather think we're past all that,” said Dorian. “This would be far from the best vintage I've ever insulted by chugging from the bottle, anyway.”

 

“All right, then,” said Bull, handing the bottle over. “Show me how it's done.”

 

As if even Dorian could teach Bull anything about alcohol consumption. Still, he gamely wrapped his lips around the rim of the bottle, and took a generous mouthful.

 

“It's quite good,” he said.

 

“I know you,” said Bull. “You think all wine is good wine.”

 

“I have a little more discernment than that,” Dorian demurred. “Here, see for yourself.”

 

Bull took the bottle. His massive hand absolutely dwarfed the narrow neck.

 

With a wine bottle, there was no way for Bull to avoid placing his mouth where Dorian’s had been, even if he’d been inclined to do so. Neither did Bull wipe off the bottle before he drank. But Bull had little respect for hygiene at the best of times, so Dorian tried not to read too much into it.

 

Bull’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It's good.”

 

Dorian sighed. “Once again,” he said, “I feel I must confess to an ulterior motive.”

 

“I figured as much,” said Bull.

 

“Don't mistake me,” said Dorian, uncharacteristically honest. “I do like to spend time with you. I find, despite my expectations, I have grown to quite enjoy your company.”

 

“You'd just enjoy it more if we had our clothes off?” Bull guessed.

 

“Well, I certainly wouldn't enjoy it  _ less _ ,” said Dorian.

 

Bull placed the bottle of wine down on his desk. Suddenly, his full attention was fixed on Dorian.

 

“You know I'd have sex with you if you asked,” said Bull, bluntly.

 

“You'd have sex with anyone if they asked,” said Dorian.

 

“Just about,” Bull agreed. “I'm not saying anything more is completely off the table. Maybe just… give it time, see what happens?”

 

“I believe I can work with that,” said Dorian. “Ah- may I kiss you? I've wanted to for quite a while, and it seems like an appropriate moment.”

 

“I think you should,” said Bull, so Dorian did.

 

When Dorian stood up, and Bull remained seated, their usual height difference was reversed. Dorian smoothed his hands across Bull’s shoulders, stalling for time, and then leant down.

 

He was cautious about it, though it soon became apparent that he needn't be. Bull’s mouth opened readily beneath his own _ , _ accepting all Dorian had to offer and demanding more. His tongue was hot and slick against Dorian’s, and his stubble pricked against Dorian’s chin.

 

“Well, that was a start,” said Dorian, pulling back.

“Care to continue?” said Bull, waggling his lone eyebrow.

 

“You're incorrigible,” said Dorian. “Please don't do that, it looks like you have something caught in your eye.”

 

“I dunno about  _ in  _ my eye, but you've  _ caught  _ my eye,” said Bull, grinning.

 

“I fear I'm having second thoughts about this,” said Dorian. In fact he was long past the point where Bull’s terrible jokes annoyed him- worse than that, they charmed him. He was beginning to suspect Bull knew it, too.

 

“Oh, just-- kiss me again, would you?” Dorian demanded.

 

Bull did so, without further comment.

 

The best thing about Bull’s ugly pants, Dorian would later decide, was that they could be removed quite easily, to bare the entirety of Bull’s form to one’s view.

 

“May I?” said Dorian, moving to kneel between the spread of Bull’s legs.

 

“If that's what you'd like,” said Bull, face unreadable.

 

“You do get some say in this as well, you know,” Dorian felt compelled to point out. “I’m not just pursuing this- this whole  _ thing  _ purely for my own benefit.”

 

“Well, in that case, yeah,” said Bull. “I'd like it as well.”

 

Unsurprisingly, Bull’s length and girth were a challenge, but nothing impossible. Dorian greedily fit as much of Bull’s cock into his mouth as he could manage, and his hand did for the rest. 

 

Bull held himself so still, ever so considerate, his hands clenched upon his thighs. Dorian wanted to pull away, to somehow intimate to Bull that if he were to place a hand on the back of Dorian’s head, just for instance, or to tug at his hair, it would not be unwelcome.

 

But then, why not let himself enjoy the novelty? Many men had taken Dorian’s willingness to go to his knees as an inherent gesture of submission, a form of self-debasement- but Bull, now, Bull looked down at Dorian with wonder in his eyes. Bull worried his lip with his teeth and breathed in deep, measured puffs of air, and whispered things like  _ fuckin’ incredible, Dorian, so good  _ when Dorian swallowed him down. The head of Bull’s cock slid across the roof of Dorian’s mouth, and further, as he relaxed his throat around it. Dorian felt his eyes slip shut, overwhelmed by the sensation.

 

And if Dorian felt himself growing hard inside his breeches from the sight and the feel of what he was doing to Bull, if he reached a hand down to touch himself in time with the bobbing of his head and the working of his throat, who except Bull was to know?

 

“Fuck,  _ Dorian,”  _ Bull groaned, and there, finally, was his hand, blunt fingers pushing through Dorian's hair, then stilling to cup the back of his head. Dorian moaned his appreciation, then allowed himself a break, pulling back to tease at Bull’s cock with his tongue.

 

“Are you touching yourself?” Bull asked.

 

“Mm,” Dorian answered, pumping his hand a little faster.

 

“Can I see?”

 

_ Why not,  _ Dorian thought, and pulled away so as to give Bull an unobstructed view of his actions.

 

“Beautiful,” said Bull. “You gonna keep doing that while I come down your throat?”

 

“At this point, you couldn't bloody well stop me,” said Dorian.

 

Bull grinned.

 

In preference of coming in his smalls like a callow adolescent, Dorian decided it was high time he kicked off his boots, undid the fastenings of his leathers, and squirmed out of his breeches. This whole process took some time, in which Dorian fully expected his erection to wane and the moment to be lost. But Bull, sitting on the bed with his legs spread and his hands resting easily on his knees, continued to gaze at Dorian steadily. The intense regard of that piercing single eye was both intimidating and somehow thrilling.

 

_ Well, then,  _ thought Dorian.  _ If he’s going to watch me like that, I may as well take off the whole lot. _

 

Dorian slowed his actions when removing the clothes from his upper body- unclipping buckles and peeling away straps. It was at this point that Bull began to stroke himself, his huge hand on his huge length, the soft sound of skin on skin.

 

As he did this, Bull continued to stare at Dorian. Dorian had always enjoyed being looked at, and he knew full well how attractive he was.

 

“See something you like?” Dorian asked Bull, finally stripping away his undershirt and tossing it onto the pile of discarded clothing.

 

“Yeah,” said Bull. “Your pretty panties. Wondering if I could get a pair made for myself.”

 

Dorian rolled his eyes. “If you like them so much, maybe I'll leave them with you. Get dressed and go back to my library, where I'm obviously more appreciated.”

 

“You could,” said Bull, calmly. “But you won’t.”

 

By way of an answer, Dorian settled back into his spot between Bull’s legs. He didn’t resume his previous activities immediately, content rather to join Bull’s large, blunt-fingered hand with his own- smaller and comparatively fine-boned. While Bull continued to stroke up and down the length of his cock, Dorian played with the head, thumbing at the bead of precome that had begun to gather there.

 

_ Maker, I want him to fuck me, _ thought Dorian,  _ almost as badly as I want him to ask me to stay the night. _

 

“ _ Dorian,”  _ said Bull.

 

“Yes?” said Dorian. “I believe you made some promise about coming down my throat?”

 

“I always keep my promises,” said Bull, mock-gravely.

 

Dorian was past the point of wanting to tease. He licked Bull’s cock, generously, with the entire flat of his tongue.

 

_ Down my throat,  _ Dorian thought. He opened his mouth, and sank slowly down.

 

“Yeah,” Bull whispered. “Yeah, Dorian, that’s it. So perfect.”

 

Dorian glanced up at him. Hard to smile, with one’s mouth full of cock, but he hoped his eyes conveyed the expression anyway.

 

“Vashedan, Dorian, I’m gonna-”

 

Dorian had no illusions that the Iron Bull’s self-control was anything other than absolute. If he had not wanted to come at that moment, he would not have. But more flattering to think his own mouth was so skilled that Bull simply couldn’t hold himself back- or that Bull cared for him so much that the sight of his happiness was what truly tipped him past that precipice-

 

Bull came with a short yell, muffled by the palm of his own hand.

 

Dorian swallowed, steady and measured. There were, in his opinion, very few situations less dignified than coughing up a mouthful of come. 

He let Bull’s cock slip from his mouth, and then rested his head against Bull’s thigh. He would of course be leaving soon, but it couldn’t hurt to take a moment’s reprieve.

 

Eventually, Bull swung himself around to lie back on the bed. Dorian took this as his dismissal, and got to his feet.

 

“Well,” said Dorian. “That was fun. Albeit over a little sooner than I’d hoped.”

 

“You taking a crack at my stamina?” asked Bull, sitting up a little so he could glance over at Dorian.

 

“Were I to do so, I had best look to myself first,” said Dorian. Self-deprecation to cover for what he really wanted to say-  _ I wanted you to make me yours. I wanted this to last all night. _

 

“Hey, no complaints here,” said Bull. “I’ll see if we can’t draw the next one out a little longer, though.”

 

“The next- pardon?” said Dorian, nonplussed.

 

“The next time you come,” said Bull, flopping back down onto the bed. “Gimme a minute to rest, then I think I’ll eat your ass out.”

 

“I  _ beg  _ your pardon!” spluttered Dorian, taken aback at more than the vulgarity.

 

“Only if it’s alright with you,” said Bull, quickly.

 

“Well, then,” said Dorian.

 

“You do want to go again, right?” said Bull, peering at Dorian with his eye open just a sliver.

 

“Oh- oh, I could be persuaded,” Dorian replied. Bull could probably see right through his casual facade, but frankly, Dorian could not bring himself to care.

 

“Good,” said Bull, smiling. “Get over here, then.”

 

Dorian settled onto the bed next to Bull. He resolutely was  _ not  _ cuddling- simply resting close to a convenient heat source, that was all.

 

“I think another ten minutes and I’ll be good,” said Bull, drowsily. “How ‘bout you?”

 

“I think you’re an insatiable beast,” Dorian muttered, burrowing in closer against Bull’s side.

 

“Go to sleep,” said Bull. “When you wake up, I’ll show you  _ insatiable. _ ”

 

“I look forward to it,” said Dorian, already beginning to drift off.

  
“First, though,” Bull added, “I think we'd better lock the door.”

**Author's Note:**

> Accepting fic and art prompts at my [tumblr](http://grimark.tumblr.com/)!


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